


in these cold hours.

by soulofme



Series: Don’t Say His Name [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mercy Killing, honestly bro i can't believe kuron is canon???, mentions of canon but not fully canon compliant, season 6 coping here we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 17:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: “Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.”― Friedrich Nietzsche





	in these cold hours.

Haggar drags a finger along the sharp slant of his nose—Shirogane’s nose—and nods once to herself. Her hand presses against his cheek, cupping it in her palm, before moving along the sharp edge of his jaw. She pokes and prods for a few more moments before stepping back, her deep violent cloak sliding down her arms and covering her gnarled fingers.

“Do you remember the plan?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“He trusts him more than anything,” Haggar says, circling him, sizing him up. “What will you do with that information?”

“Exploit it.”

“Good boy,” she murmurs, seemingly impressed. Kuron ignores the pit that forms in his stomach, breathing evenly through his nose in an attempt to distract himself. “You are dismissed. We will take action at dawn. Do not disappoint me.”

He tilts his head and the witch’s face disappears from his mind. Even though she is long gone, he feels that her presence lingers along the walls and throughout the room, leaving him feeling far beyond uneasy.

With her gone, it leaves him helpless to his own thoughts. He doesn’t want to go through with the mission. He can’t go through with the mission. It’s his duty, and yet he has finally found a place where he belongs. He doesn’t belong with the Galra. He’s nothing more than the witch’s pawn, a chess piece to move about the board until she strikes her winning move.

But with the paladins, he feels he is worth something. Other than Keith, no one has noticed that he’s not their Shiro. He fits in seamlessly, a puzzle piece that has finally returned. They treat him as their brother, including him in everything and excluding him from nothing. Even Keith, who Kuron has found to be remarkable at keeping up appearances. Without the others around, Keith doesn’t even spare him a glance. But his silent acceptance of him is more than enough for Kuron.

He releases a heavy sigh and resigns himself to the bed—Shirogane’s, he remembers with a bitter smile—and closes his eyes. He falls into a fitful sleep, one that is promptly interrupted by Haggar at dawn. Her voice grinds in his ears, reminding him of the mission at hand. Separate Keith from the others. Finish him. Bring glory to the Galran Empire.

So he does. He corners Keith, separates him from the team in an attempt at ending him. The young paladin fights well, so well that Kuron supposes this is what is meant by finding one’s match. When he finally knocks the boy to the ground, he wills him to give up, give in, forget the fight.

But Keith doesn’t know how to yield. He fights and fights, and with a simple sentence, he delivers the finishing blow:

“ _I love you!_ ”

The words are not meant for him. He knows that. He knows that fear is twisting Keith, deluding him into thinking that it’s his beloved Shiro he’s fighting and not his clone. But the words make Kuron freeze, blade still held to the boy’s face. Keith looks at him with a softness he has never seen before, a gentleness that makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Kuron loses his fighting strength. It’s then that Keith’s blade slices through his arm, severing his connection to the witch and destroying his chance at completing the mission.

He doesn’t remember much after that. When he awakes, he’s in the cockpit of the Black Lion. Keith gives him a look fraught with disgust before disappearing to the chamber behind them, leaving Kuron face to face with Keith’s mother.

Krolia presses a cool hand to worst of the bruises on his cheek, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. She doesn’t look at him like he’s a monster, making her very different than her son. She crouches before him, completely at ease. Kuron realizes with a start that he’s not much of a threat without his arm.

“Is he dead?” she asks.

“Yes,” Kuron whispers. Haggar had implanted the memory into his mind.

Krolia closes her eyes and tilts her head down. Kuron looks away from the sight, ignoring how guilty she makes him feel.

When they arrive at the castle, Keith doesn’t hesitate to tell the others the truth. He watches as their faces crumple before him, looks of hurt and disbelief coloring their features. Allura declares him a threat. Kuron keeps his held high even as her glare penetrates through his—Shiro’s—armor.

They keep him in a cell that’s dark and cold, furnished with a cot, a basin to fill with water, and a small window.

When he stands, he can see the wide expanse of the galaxy before him, miles upon miles of black nothingness, speckled by tiny silver stars. They don’t shackle him to the ground. They feed him three times a day, in white bowls nearly overflowing with the thick green goo he’s become accustomed to feasting on. They don’t linger for long, and they never look him in the eye. Their mouths are set in permanent frowns, their movements quick and short, as if they can’t wait to leave him.

Keith doesn’t visit him. Not once.

Kuron hasn’t seen him since their explosive battle. He ghosts his hand over the nub of his arm that remains. He has lost contact with the witch, but he knows Haggar will eventually learn of his failure. At night, he imagines all the different ways she will end him, how she will torture him before the empire and make an example of him. The Galra never leave the mission uncompleted, after all, and it would do no good to take mercy on him.

The door to the corridor squeaks open, shedding a thin sliver of white light onto the room. He squints in response to it, raising his remaining hand up to shield his eyes. He can’t see the figure in the doorway from this angle, but he listens as their light footsteps approach him.

Kuron has no concept of time here, but he does know that he’s already had his last meal for the day. His eyes droop with exhaustion, alerting him that it’ll be bedtime soon. No one had ever come this late. The princess had—once—but that was only to inform him that they intended to return him to the Galra. He had accepted his fate with a bowed head, unable to look at Allura’s face.

The footsteps come to a stop before his cell. There’s the quiet jingle of keys as the door is unlocked. The sound of metal grating upon metal echoes through the room. He watches in disbelief as Keith’s lithe form slides in smoothly between the door and the frame. He shuts it behind himself, hand curled tight around it before he faces Kuron.

“Keith?”

Keith regards him with a detached expression, his eyes sweeping over him coolly from head to toe. They linger on the remnants of his arm, at the frayed wires that stick out from his shoulder. His lips pull down into a frown that’s quickly traded for a neutral look, one that chills Kuron to his core.

“We’ve spotted a Galran ship,” Keith says. “Shouldn’t be too long until we’re close enough to release you to them.”

“Alright,” Kuron says. It feels like the only thing he’s able to say.

Keith takes a step forward towards the cot. He hesitates for a moment before he drops himself down onto it. The springs squeak in protest beneath his weight. Kuron watches him warily from his spot on the floor.

“Are they going to kill you?” Keith asks. Kuron sucks in a heavy breath.

“You know they will.”

He expects Keith to look pleased, but finds that there is no such expression on his face. He listens as Keith exhales, almost too softly to be heard.

“You had your chance,” Keith says. “You could’ve killed me easily.”

“I know.”

“You told me that’s why they sent you here,” Keith continues, louder, angrier, “You said that you couldn’t return if I was still alive.”

“I did, Keith.”

“Then why am I still here?” Keith explodes, standing to his feet. He towers over Kuron now. His hands are clenched into tight fists by his side. “You failed your mission!”

“I couldn’t do it,” Kuron whispers. The admission tastes sour on his tongue. He pushes through. “I knew I had my chance. But I just couldn’t.”

“ _Why_?” Keith presses.

“Sometimes,” Kuron starts, softly, “the tasks we are given are too difficult to complete. And when presented with an option, who chose to do what we want rather than what is expected of us.”

“What are you saying?”

“I have all of his memories, Keith. Whatever he felt towards someone is what I feel towards that same person.”

Keith gasps, his eyes growing wide. Kuron lets his words hang in the air between them.

“I don’t know what love is,” Kuron murmurs. “I’ll never know what it is. But if it’s anything, it’s the feelings Shiro had for you.”

“You’re not him.” Keith’s voice sounds tight, like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far.

“I could never be him, no matter how much I wanted to be,” Kuron says. “You saw right through me. But I liked to pretend that I was him, that you loved me as much as you loved him.”

The sound Keith releases then is nothing short of wounded. Kuron closes his eyes and presses his head back against the wall.

“You have to kill me, Keith,” he says. “If you give me back to them, they’ll just patch me up and send me right back. You have to end this. You can’t let me hurt you.”

“Why should I?” Keith mutters. “Wouldn’t that be giving you the easy way out?”

“…I don’t want to hurt you.” He opens his eyes and scoots closer to Keith, noting how he stays rooted in his spot on the cot. “I don’t want Shiro to hurt you.”

Keith turns his face away. In the dim light of the room, Kuron can see the tears that trail down his cheeks.

“Please, Keith.”

Keith sniffles, exhaling shakily. He reaches for the sheath at his waist, removing the Marmoran blade. Kuron watches as Keith stands to his feet, his entire body trembling as he holds the blade high. The look on his face is tortured, twisted grimly as he stares down at Kuron.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s the last time he’ll ever be able to say it.

“I am too,” Keith murmurs, and Kuron shuts his eyes just as the blade kisses his neck.


End file.
